


All Good Things Have to Start Somewhere

by USSFriendship



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Barton's Farm, Happy Ending, Human Disaster Clint Barton, Idiots in Love, Implied Tony Stark/Steve Rogers - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Torture, Long-Suffering Bucky Barnes, M/M, Magical Fuckery, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Other, actual disaster Clint Barton, author picks and chooses canon at will, my shenanigans kept turning into angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-07-30 18:24:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/USSFriendship/pseuds/USSFriendship
Summary: Clint ends up with a stalker who sends a flock of annoying but harmless drones at him any time he tries to leave the tower. No one can figure out who is sending them or why, and after a couple of weeks confined to the tower with no answers, Clint gives up and flees to the farm he'd bought years ago as a retirement plan, with Bucky sent along to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. Hijinks ensue.Inspired by the phenomenalTrashcanakin'sgorgeous art that can be foundHERE!





	1. Fashionable People

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to the incredible Trashcanakin and their fantastic art. This was so much fun, and I hope my words do it justice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic and chapter titles from the song Fashionable People by Joel Plaskett Emergency

The rest of the team was already sitting around the conference table when Steve walked in. “So, we have a stalker,” he said bluntly, “what do we know so far?”

Scott, bless him, raised his hand.

“Yeah, Scott,” Steve answered, trying - and succeeding, mostly - to suppress an eye roll. “You don’t actually need to raise your hand, you know that, right?”

“Oh, uh, sure. Yeah. Um. Yes, Sir. Captain. Captain America.”

“Scott,” Steve said on a sigh, “Steve is fine. You had something to say?”

“Oh, yeah! I, uh, don’t think  _ we _ have a stalker. Not, uh, the Avengers.”

Steve shot him a confused look. “What do you mean? Every time we go out, one of these-“ he stops, looking for the right word, “ _ attacks _ happens.”

“Well, yes. And also no. I don’t think it’s the team, Sir. At least, not all of us, or not the Avengers as a whole.” He paused and looked nervously around the room. “I, uh, not that I think you’re wrong, or anything, but there’s been three of these, uh, things now, right? And none of them have been when the whole team is there.” His eyes went a little unfocused as he chased a thought, when he started talking again, it appeared to be mostly to himself, “though, I guess we can’t rule that out, because the whole team hasn’t been out together since they started, not even on call outs. But…..” he shook his head a little before looking back up to Steve.

Everyone looked at him, waiting for him to continue. Everyone except for Tony, who was slouched down in his seat with his arms folded across his chest and his eyes closed, and Clint.

Clint groaned internally and stared intently at his fingernails while desperately hoping the surprisingly comfortable conference room chair would just swallow him whole. He knew what Scott was saying, had come to the same conclusion himself in the car on the way back to the tower, but he desperately hoped he was wrong. Scott was right, though, and no amount of trying to convince himself that it could have been any one or all of them, would change reality. Well, ok. Probably not Tony. His stalkers were usually all about flashy death threats and Michael Bay-esque explosions, while this was just, well, annoying. Mostly. No one got hurt, at least.

Steve shot Scott a meaningful look before getting frustrated and finally asking, “and? What else? It seems like you have more.”

Heaving a huge sigh, Scott continued, “well, each time it’s been a group of us. The pizza place was Tony, Clint, Natasha, Sam, and Rhodes. The next one, the ice cream place, was you, Clint, Wanda, Carol, Sam, Rhodes, and Bucky. And then this one, today at the coffee shop, was me, Clint, Natasha, Bruce, and Wanda. But!” he gulped, “last week Wanda, Sam, and I went out together on our hunt for Avengers bobble heads, and nothing happened. Rhodey and Carol went out on their totally-not-a-date and were fine. Natasha goes out all the time to do whatever she does but never has issues. Dnd then there is other spider, the kid, and he is just out running around all over, and usually instagramming his exact location.”

Across the table Bucky gave a little snort, “you could say the same about Stark.”

“Yeah!” Scott agreed emphatically. “And probably lots of other comings and goings, but I don’t track you guys. Anyway, there has only been one commonality between the incidents and not incidents I know about.” He looked around the table, seeming very proud of himself for coming up with this before anyone else. “It’s Hawkeye! Hawkeye has the stalker!”

Clearly caught off guard, Steve just blinked at him, before turning his attention to Clint, who was trying to melt into the padding of his chair. “Well, that’s pretty easy. Clint, you’ve been out more than what Scott listed since this whole mess started, right?”

“Um,” Clint sighed. “No. Not, uh, as such. I…” He cleared his throat before continuing with a grimace, “I think Scott’s right.”

“Right. Ok. So,” Steve appeared to be at a loss, this whole thing kept getting more ridiculous. “So, Clint has a stalker.”

“Now, Cap, that’s not fair,” Tony chimed in, a gleeful expression on his face, at the same time Bucky blandly added, “who the hell would wanna stalk Barton?” Truth be told, Bucky would – and had – but that had nothing to do with the current meeting and, therefore, no one needed to know. In his defense, the guy was fascinating. A disaster, sure, but a damned interesting one.

“Hey! I am plenty stalkable!” Clint squawked, forgetting himself and now legitimately a little offended. “And there are multiple Instagram hashtags to prove it,” he added with a small pout, folding his arms across his chest with a huff.

“Nope. Mr. Loxley, you misunderstand me. This sounds like,” Tony paused for dramatic effect, before continuing like he was delivering a just-discovered fundamental truth of the universe in a musical, “a  _ NEMESIS _ !” There were jazz hands and everything.

Steve blinked at Tony several times, trying to determine if the genius was being serious or not. “Ok, Tony, I’ll bite. What is the difference between a nemesis and a stalker?”

“Intent, Cap. Well, basically. A stalker  _ wants _ the person; to be them, to be loved by them, stuff like that. A nemesis wants to take the person out. Or, in my case, publicly shame or embarrass them” He paused thoughtfully for a moment, “Usually in some spectacular way that shows how much more intelligent or powerful or whatever they are than the person they are trying to take out. The Mandarin – well, Killian, really – was technically stalking me, in that he was tracking my movements and all that, but it wasn’t to steal a lock of my hair to try and make a Tony doll, he genuinely wanted to kill me and ruin my name in the process. He was my nemesis, or at least, he thought he was. I think, if Clint had a stalker he’d be getting a bunch of arrow shaped stirrers in his coffee or something, not…” Tony’s face went through a series of small contortions as he tried to find the words to describe the events. To be fair, it was pretty fucking difficult to classify the sudden appearance of a gaggle of drones, the nothing special sort that were available on amazon, that had been outfitted with speakers and lights that created a hell of ruckus, but not actually hurting anything or anybody. “Not send a fleet of disco drones to chase him around the city.”

“Ok, so then whomever is after Clint wants to hurt him or kill him?” Steve didn’t sound less confused, but who could blame him. This whole thing was a fucking mess. “What does that have to do with dispatching a bunch of party drones to throw an impromptu rave in a coffee shop? That’s irritating, but mostly harmless. That’s an oddly elaborate prank.”

“Wait,” Clint said, rejoining the conversation, “Captain America knows what a rave is?”

Tony beamed proudly from his seat, “I got him to sit down and watch the Blade movies with me. It was a good time.”

“Stark, you have the most unexpected taste in movies, and I’m very sad you didn’t invite me to Homicidal Vampire Rave Movie Night, but good on you for getting our fearless leader to sit down and watch something so pointless,” Clint replied.

“Next week we’re watching Angsty Industrial Cyborg Kung-Fu movies. You’re welcome to join us.”

Scott looked confused before perking up, “the Matrix movies? I’m in.”

“Can we-“ Steve heaved a massive sigh and scrubbed a hand over his face, “ _ please _ , can we please just stay on track?” Off to his left, Natasha snickered, which just made Steve sigh again, “Let’s just try, just this once, to stay on topic.” He looked pointedly around the conference room, making sure he had the group’s attention. “We can do that, right?”

Thor raised his hand and looked at Steve, waiting for permission from their clearly flustered leader. Steve gave an exasperated nod, “You know, no one actually needs to raise their hands, right?”

The big Asgardian nodded agreeably before asking, as earnestly as anyone has ever done anything, “What’s a rave?”

It wasn’t that the room erupted in pandemonium – they were Avengers, they didn’t do that sort of thing – but the conference room wasn’t exactly a prime example of decorum as all at once the room was full of the sound of barely stifled giggles. Except for Steve, of course, who looked like he was questioning every decision he’d made that led him to this point.

“A rave,” Tony had a slightly maniacal glint in his eye as he replied, “is just an excuse to flail around in an over-crowded, filthy warehouse lit exclusively by strobe and spot lights while listening to horrible music and taking drugs of questionable origin.”

Bucky blinked at Tony a couple of times. “That sounds fuckin’ awful. What is the appeal of that?”

Steve grit out, “can we please move on,” at the same time Tony cheerfully answered, “oh, it’s a good time, especially when you’re young and convinced you are bulletproof.”

Across the table, Clint sat as still as he possibly could, trying his hardest to appear innocent and unassuming. This was a shit show, and it was, in truth, somehow his fault. He had no idea how, but that wasn’t exactly new. He’s not sure how he knew, but he absolutely knew that this was about him. When the drones showed up, horrible flying four rotor things, which were plenty loud on their own, but the fact that played alarm noises at about a billion decibels positively fucked up Clint’s aids and left him completely deaf, which made the bright, multicolored, flashing lights disorienting for him. He knew he should share this with the team, but, fuck it. It was embarrassing, and everyone knew he was deaf anyway, so it wasn’t exactly useful information.

“So,” Clint cleared his throat and tried again, “So, Cap, all we really know is that these things show up wherever I am hanging out. Well, that isn’t the tower.”

Tony snorted a laugh at that.

“Yeah, Stark, we know. Your security can’t be Jedi mind tricked into believing these are not the drones we’re looking for, or whatever, but that isn’t really the point, is it? They haven’t even tried, or we’d know about it, yeah?”

“Oh. Good point.” Tony drawled, clearly thinking, “JARVIS, is Barton actually right?”

“Correct, Sir,” replied a posh voice that seemed to emanate from everywhere. “Not only have there not been any attacks of this sort on the tower, I have not found any indication of this sort of attack outside of the three instances involving members of the Avengers.”

“Alright. This is a job for science!” Tony clapped gleefully. “What? No! Don’t look at me like that. This  _ is _ a job for science. The best lead we have is that Clint is the target, so that is our hypothesis. So we need to send him out alone and see if more Disco Drones show up. If they do, we know he, specifically, is the target. If not, we need to send two of us out to get doughnuts or something, and see what happens.” He turned and looked at Clint meaningfully, “When do you want to do it?”

“Tony, we can’t use Clint as bait! We’ve been over this; Avengers are not lures!” exclaimed an incredibly exasperated Steve Rogers. “Not you, not Clint, not any of us!”

Tony scoffed and turned to glare at Steve, “that is so rich coming from you, Rogers. If you thought for a second it was you, you’d be out of the building before we could say no.”

Steve glared back at Tony, knowing the other man was right, but refusing to back down. “Doesn’t matter. We can’t use Clint as bait.”

“Why not?”

Instantly, all eyes were on Bucky.

“What? Why’re you lookin’ at me like I suggested we punch kittens?”

“Buck, you’re advocating for sending Clint out alone specifically to be attacked.”

“Oh, come off it,  _ Cap _ ,” Bucky shot back at Steve, laying the Brooklyn on extra thick. “’m advocating for sending Barton to be accosted by giant, mechanical beetles. It seems unlikely that they are going to suddenly be weaponized or interested at all in actually hurting people, or they already would be. An’ stop makin’ him sound like some sort a helpless damsel. Only one person has survived both The Winter Soldier  _ AND _ the Black Widow. Ever.” He sighed, before adding - voice quiet and with a bitter edge, “and we both limped away from those encounters with scars.”

“Aw, Buckaroo,” Clint beamed at him, “I didn’t know you cared.”

Bucky glared at him. “Stating fact. For all that Clint Barton is a human tire fire, Hawkeye is a legend, and not someone to be underestimated. At least, not by people who have never had to fish him out of a dumpster. ‘Sides, I don’t want anyone thinkin’ I could be bested by, y’know,” and he gestured dismissively in Clint’s direction.

Clint had no idea what to do with that. He’d never been complimented by Bucky before – Hell, he hadn’t really even been acknowledged by Bucky before - and it made him feel sort of warm. Probably because the Winter Soldier just called him an equal. It then occurred to him that Bucky had just let the entire room know that they had come up against each other. Several lifetimes ago, back when they were both weapons, though with much different circumstances. Natasha knew, because she knew everything about Clint, but she may well be the only person in the world, let alone the room, who did.

“Exactly, Elsa! And, please, Steve, give me some credit,” Tony honestly sounded a little wounded, “I would never put anyone on the team in danger intentionally. He’ll have his comms and we’ll send Itsy Bitsy and Olaf to watch him. Y’know, spy on him? Like they’re, spies or something. They’d have to be incognito, of course; the whole thing is shot to hell if there’s two other Avengers with him.” He grimaced and looked squarely at Steve, “but if these things go after Katniss alone, we will have to go out without him. All the Avengers minus Hawkeye, to make sure they done come after us. If they do…”

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. “Right. We’d all have to go out solo and see who else triggers an attack.” He sighed; this sucked, but Tony and Scott were right. Hopefully Clint was the Target, and they could go from there. “Fine. What’s the plan, then?”

“Clint leaves the tower by himself, goes somewhere and does something while being followed by Natasha and Barnes who are hanging back waiting to see if the disco drones show up,” Tony said, a little confusedly. “I thought we covered this?”

“Tony, that isn’t a plan,” Steve sighed, “that’s-“

“I was gonna take Lucky to the park, anyway. Let him terrorize some ducks, maybe get us both some ice cream,” Clint broke in, cutting Steve off. “If there is another attack, at least there will be enough space that people won’t trample each other, and it’ll make it easier for Natasha and Barnes to tail me without it looking like an Avengers trip to the park.” He paused thoughtfully, “plus, you know, ice cream.”

Reluctantly, Steve admitted it was a solid plan, or at least as solid a plan as using a member of the team as bait could be. “Yeah, ok,” he relented, “late night or early morning would look strange for you, so let’s make it early afternoon, while people are still working, but it has already started to heat up. We can at least try to make sure there are as few people in the park as possible.”

“Quarter to two, perfect,” Clint said with a grin after checking the time on his phone. He popped up from his spot around the conference room table while messing with his hearing aids. “Lucky’s gonna be stoked.” Natasha cleared her throat, halting him on his way out the door, and he turned to look at her. “$20 says I spot you inside 20 minutes, and I get a ten-minute head start.”

“Five.”

“Sure,” he said throwing her a sly grin and an exaggerated wink as he strode out the door, “it won’t take me that long, anyway.” 

“Clint, hey. Hawkeye. BARTON!” Steve’s voice rang out, but Clint ignored him and kept going. “Fucking hell, this isn’t how you plan a mission. Fuck’s sake, the last attack was less than two hours ago. There is no reason to expect the bad guy is going to be ready to go again so soon. He didn’t even have his comms.”

“Firstly, Capsicle,” Tony said with no small amount of glee apparent in his voice, “his hearing aids are his communicators, he just takes them out of transmit mode when he isn’t on the clock. Secondly, I'm pretty sure he was going to go to the park no matter what. Thirdly, Ms. Romanoff, $20 that you’ve got eyes on him before he gets to the park.”

Natasha sticks her hand to Tony in agreement, while Steve looks around the room wondering how the hell anyone could think he had any sort of authority over these people. He started to say something, but was stopped by Bucky, of all people.

“Save it, Stevie. The day the Widow passes on a bet is the day she dies, and we all know she’s immortal. And short of tying Clint down, there is no way to keep him in the tower, so you may as well let him go. I’ll follow, too.” He got up and started towards the door, before he stopped to turn to Natasha. “$20 says I get eyes on him before you do.”

The grin she leveled at him was just this side of feral. “Sure. Sounds like fun.”


	2. Questionable Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. Thank you so much for sticking around.

Ten minutes later, Buck was standing on the sidewalk across the street from the tower, after a quick stop by his room to change into a long sleeved henley and throw some supplies – his sunglasses, communicators, a couple of knives, you know, the essentials – into a backpack and check himself over in a mirror to make sure he looked like a normal guy rather than a super soldier. He paused for a bit to turn his face up, letting the sun warm his skin. A few seconds wouldn’t cost him the bet with the Widow, and he would be damned if he’d pass up the opportunity to enjoy being outside.

Truth be told, Bucky just needed to get the hell out of the tower for something other than a mission. Ok, fine, this was technically a mission, but it was also a walk in the park. Literally. He was just trailing Clint and his one-eyed mutt on an early afternoon ice cream outing through the park. Even if the drones did show up, which seemed unlikely, it would still be three of the most lethal humans in the world versus a couple of flying juke boxes. For fuck’s sake, they regularly trained with special flying robots Tony made, that was certainly more sophisticated and more durable. Yeah, this was going to be fine. Maybe he’d go nuts and get himself some ice cream, too.

It wasn’t that Bucky didn’t appreciate his second chance; he did, more than he would ever be able to express, it was just that in the nearly two years since coming to the tower, the only time he was ever able to spend by himself was when he was showering or sleeping. He left Wakanda free from the Hydra programming, thanks to Shuri’s brilliance, but he was still recovering from seventy years’ worth of living a nightmare and the horrors of war before it. So, early on in his stay at the tower most of his time was taken up by seemingly endless therapy sessions – something else he was perpetually grateful for – and the rest was spent in the gym, working out or training with members of the team. Eventually, though, he started getting better and spent less time in therapy, which gave him more time to spend doing his own thing, figuring out who he was and what his interests were in this new life he’d been gifted.  
The team had welcomed and accepted him, and eventually they had all, to varying degrees, become his friends, and they all went out of their way to make him feel included. It was nice and low stakes, and it took him a while to notice that no matter what he was doing or who he was doing it with, Steve was there. Always, it felt like, unless he was off on a mission. It had been a reassuring comfort in the beginning, that he could pick up with his old friend where they’d left off, each of them accepting and adjusting to the people they had become, and that Steve was always close by to put The Soldier out of commission should the worst happen. It was, at least, right up until it wasn’t. At some point it turned smothering, a little bit claustrophobic, and it made Bucky question himself. He knew it wasn’t malicious, but that didn’t change the fact that somewhere along the line he had started to feel like Steve didn’t trust him. Almost a year in, he couldn’t take it anymore and asked his oldest friend what the deal was. They’d talked; it had been difficult, but it felt like they’d both been open and honest, and he’d thought they’d worked out, and that would be the last of it.

Things got better after that, but only a little. He no longer had a constant shadow, but he was still hard pressed to do anything without Steve within arm’s reach. Look, he wasn’t an asshole. Well, ok, he was, but he wasn’t that sort of asshole. He got it, he really did. Steve had been through some shit, and it had left him with some real abandonment issues. In general, sure, but especially where he and Tony were concerned, and his resulting need to make sure that they were safe and not falling out of or off something had gotten old a long time ago. Bucky sort of resented the fact that he’d worked so hard to get himself back, going through the therapy and learning to cope with his past and his new present, but Steve didn’t seem interested in doing the same. That was not to say that he didn’t need or want Steve around anymore, not at all, just that having 220 lbs of anxious super soldier perpetually by his side had become exhausting. How Tony dealt with it was beyond him, though he suspected there was nudity involved, and that wasn’t a path he had any desire to go down. Ever.  
Before he could get too lost in his own head, he smiled and waved at the traffic camera on the corner -Steve and Tony were definitely sitting in one of the conference rooms watching their every move, Steve out of worry and panic, and Tony to see if he was going to win his bets or not – before taking off in the direction of a tiny coffee cart that he knew Barton liked, thinking the archer might try to throw them off by taking his time. The archer wasn’t there, but neither was Natasha, so he had that going for him. He bought himself an elaborate iced Earl Grey tea and continued chasing the wild Hawk.

* * *

They arrived at the park and all spotted each other at near enough to the same time that Bucky couldn’t tell who was first; they’d have to defer to Tony and his stolen video to determine who won which bets. The thought passed as quickly as it came, and Bucky realized that he had nothing to do. Well, nothing but keeping an eye out for another party drone attack, but it was like that would sneak up on him. With quick glance at Natasha, who had changed into workout gear and put on simple brunette wig in what had to have been record time, sitting on a bench and appeared to be playing a game on her phone, he checked out the area and looked for a nice spot to camp out until it was time to head back to the tower.

He plopped down on a soft patch of clover he’d found at the base of a big, shady tree, and pulled out his book, but didn’t get around to reading. A bit away from him Barton let Lucky off his lead, and they were chasing each other around an open bit of grass, winding around each other and obviously having a ball. Barton was laughing, a big smile plastered to his face as he stopped short and changed direction, causing Lucky to stumble sideways to try and keep up. Bucky wondered what it would be like to be that at ease, enough to have a sort of carefree fun without worrying about evil lurking behind every bush. Honestly, he’d have thought it would make him jealous – after all, he had been just like that once, several lifetimes ago – but something about it being Clint made him feel… hopeful.

For all that he was friends with the rest of the Avengers and some of the support staff, he didn’t really know anyone. While he wasn’t as skittish as he had been in the beginning, he was still a bit paranoid and guarded as a result, and Steve was the only one he knew on any sort of substantial level. Over the last few months, he had spent a fair bit of time with Barton, though. They had a quick and easy camaraderie based around their shared affinity for ranged weaponry and pointless contests. Barton had dubbed then Sniper Bros, and they started hanging out more, but slingshot contests and Mario Kart battles weren’t exactly conducive to meaningful conversation, so their friendship was very surface-level. Still, though, you didn’t end up an Avenger if your life had been all sunshine and rainbows, and he knew enough about Barton’s past to know that his was more difficult than most, and Bucky was in absolute awe of the way he seemed to be able to turn Hawkeye off and be Clint. Maybe there was some sort of skill to it, and if he asked nicely, Barton would teach him. Or maybe it was just because he knew he had two assassins watching his back.

It had been about twenty years since the Winter soldier encountered Hawkeye on a rooftop in Hamburg, and doing some quick math, Bucky realized that Clint couldn’t have been more than twenty years old at the time. Even then, he was on Hydra’s radar in a big enough way that the Soldier had been briefed on him and had standing orders to bring him if there was ever an encounter. The “dead or alive” wasn’t specifically stated, but the implication was there, and just thinking about it left Bucky nauseated. Barton had been a kid. Deadly, terrifying, efficient – sure, but a kid. Possibly an actual child by most legal standards and had already lived a life that had him standing face to face with the Winter Soldier. Bucky leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes, letting the rest of the memory play out. It had been short and brutal, and ended when Hawkeye shot him through the shoulder, pinning him to a wall, before jumping off the roof and disappearing. It made no sense. He could have and should have killed Hawkeye right then. That is what the Winter Soldier did. That is all the Winter Soldier did; eliminate targets and anything that got in the way of eliminating targets. Though, the same could be said for Hawkeye, right? He could have - and definitely should have - taken him out. The shot to the shoulder was too precise to be an accident, which means that Barton made the choice not to kill him. Fuck. Here he is, decades later, wondering why his friend didn’t kill him when he had the chance. What a fucking life.

Before he had a chance to chase that thought too far, he was brought back to reality by a stick landing on his leg. He looked up to see Lucky running over towards him and Barton standing a bit behind with a sheepish expression on his face.

“Sorry, about that, Mister,” Clint yelled with a small smile, while rubbing the back of his neck. He started walking over, “I didn’t mean to hit you. Just got a little excited,” he said when he was standing a few feet away from Bucky, Lucky sitting at his feet with the stick in his mouth.

The smile dropped off Clint’s face. They were close enough now that no one would be able to hear what they were saying, unless they were bugged.

“Hey, bro, you ok? You kinda looked like you were about to pass out.”

Bucky blinked up at him and let out a little laugh. “Yeah, man. Just got a little lost in thought. Thanks, though.” With a small laugh, he leaned forward and ruffled the top of Lucky’s head. “You, too, fuzzy friend. You guys enjoy your afternoon!” He smiled up and Clint and turned his attention to the book, forgotten and unopened, in his lap. 

Clint - _Barton_, he corrected himself - coming over to him was a risky move. Sure, Bucky did a pretty good job of looking like an unassuming hipster enjoying the park, but anyone paying any real attention to Clint would be able to tell exactly who he was talking to. Barton had to have known this, so why the hell did he come over? Bucky knew he was a far better operative than that, which made him wonder how bad he actually looked. Shit. Was he the one to blow this _literal_ walk in the park of a mission? 

No. He couldn’t follow that thought any further; there lies madness, and freaking out, and actually blowing the mission. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he set his book next to him and let his mind drift. Spending an afternoon in the park to daydream and contemplate life was a thing normal people did, right? Fuck it, if it wasn’t something normal people did, then it was definitely something weirdos did, and New York certainly had plenty of those. Always had, really, and he knew that better than most. 

Before long, his thoughts wandered back to Clint - _Barton_ \- and the conversation in the conference room. Everyone one had looked a little wide eyed when he’d made the comment about Hawkeye having survived an encounter with the Winter Soldier, which seemed strange when he thought about it. Did they really not know? It wasn’t in either of their files? More surprising, Barton had never mentioned it? It certainly seemed like the thing anyone would in their line of work would brag about. Ok, so Natasha never did, but their history was long and dark and full of horrors, but Barton, well, it seemed like the sort of thing he would normally brag about. Maybe when they get back to the tower, he’ll ask about it. Then again, maybe he won’t; it is more personal than they’ve ever gotten before.

That thought sends him down a completely different path. Maybe he might like to get more personal with Clint. The guy was fun and funny, and they had a lot in common, even if most of it was horrible. Plus, he was smokin’ fuckin’ hot. Ok, shit, that’s not helpful either, and where the hell had that even come from? It had been the better part of a century since anything even vaguely related to sex crossed Bucky’s mind, and he was equal parts thrilled he’d gotten this part of himself back - finally - and horrified that he was thinking about Barton’s arms in extreme detail.   
The tell-tale sound of a group of drones approaching derailed his train of thought, which he was actually kind of happy about. He did his best to look confused and curious, like a civilian would, while he watched half a dozen drones fly over the field towards Barton. A couple of seconds after coming into view they started up with the lights and noise, though he was pretty sure the noise was different than it was the last time. The thought is confirmed when the alarm noises drop away and are replaced by a creepy voice, something that sounds like a robotic child, saying, “hey, look! It’s Hawkeye!” over and over. That definitely hadn’t happened before, but he kinda wished it had; even though the voice was creepy as shit, it made the target of the attack pretty easy to identify. 

Two hundred yards away from him, Clint was staring up at the drones, and appeared to be yelling something at them, though there was no way to know what over all the other noise, while Bucky took out his phone and started recording so the team could analyze the footage later and check for movement patterns and anomalies. Natasha, for her part, had bolted off the bench and pulled a pair of Widow Bites out of somewhere. When she was close enough, she flung one at the closest drone, causing it to short out and drop from the sky. Cool, Tony was going to have a grand ol’ time taking it apart, and, hopefully, get some answers about what the hell was going on. Her second Widow Bite hadn’t been charged, but had a magnet and a tracker in it, and she’d managed to get it to stick to one of them, so hopefully that would lead them to the bad guy, and they could end this whole mess.

* * *

For two minutes the drones hung in the air about ten feet over Barton’s head, yelling about Hawkeye and blinking their multicolored lights, before the lights and noise dropped away completely, and they flew off in the direction they came from. No one got hurt and nothing was damaged, which were definitely good things, but this attack didn’t give them any more information than the other ones had. Even with more space, the drones didn’t really move around. They talked this time, but it was clearly a recorded message and the voice was obviously either distorted or completely artificial, so there were no clues there, either. With the mission completed and a park full of people staring at them, the three of them, and Lucky, headed back to the tower, Natasha holding the drone like a cat that’d just taken out a really big bird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. You are wonderful, and I hope you are having a great day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I really appreciated it. 
> 
> I'm super glad you exist, and I am hoping you have a good day. 
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](https://ussfriendship.tumblr.com/)!


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